


Red Fruit, Redder Lips

by alpha_exodus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Butt Plugs, Light Bondage, M/M, Strawberries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-04-30 22:25:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5181899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alpha_exodus/pseuds/alpha_exodus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco always gets what he wants, and Harry lets him take it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Fruit, Redder Lips

**Author's Note:**

> This is a birthday fic for my lovely friend FeelsForBreakfast! Mattie, this is a lil late, but I hope it makes your week just a bit more excellent <3

With a sly grin and an upward flick of the eyebrows, Draco pressed him firmly against the wall. Draco’s lips were soft against his ear, but his words were rough, delicious enough to make Harry shiver. “It’s not about what you want, _Potter_. It’s about what you’re willing to let me take.”

-X-

Harry frowned at his watch, staring as the hand spun to signify another dreary minute. Draco was late. _Again._ God, he hated being partnered with the man. Yes, they worked well together, and yes, Draco was (really) hot, okay? But Draco was always bloody late!

And when Draco did saunter into the office, holding a handful of strawberries and looking as if he didn’t have a care in the world, Harry couldn’t even bring himself to shout at the man.

It was the damn strawberries. Draco was eyeing Harry with a grin that said ‘you can’t do anything to me, and it’s killing you, isn’t it?’ Then he popped one of the red fruits in his mouth, and Harry had to close his eyes. His mind went further, though, imagining how Draco’s immaculate face would look if the strawberry juice were to run down his chin, if Harry were to lick it off—

The vision stopped when he opened his eyes. Draco was always neat when he ate, and this time was no different. No dripping strawberry juice, no room for Harry to kiss him (not in their office, at least). The time to yell at the man had already passed, too—Draco was already at his desk, obediently flicking through their case notes.

“You misspelled the victim’s name here,” he smirked, turning his head to look up at Harry.

“Wha—I did not!” Harry opened his own copy, turning to the page that Draco was now holding up. “That’s an ‘i’ and an ‘e’. That’s how you spell it.”

“I know _that_ ,” Draco rolled his eyes, flipping the page back over so that he could stare at it some more. “Well, fine, I suppose you’ve spelled it correctly. But your handwriting’s still atrocious, Potter, you should really look into that.”

“I’ll fix my handwriting when you start being on time,” Harry muttered under his breath.

Draco smirked at him. “Time waits for no Malfoy, you know,” he said smugly.

“That doesn’t mean what you’re trying to make it mean!” Harry tried to protest, but Draco only widened his smirk.

Despite Draco being late, they settled easily into their daily routine, reading through the new casework that had come in overnight.

“It’s raining today,” Draco complained.

“It always rains,” Harry pointed out.

Draco groaned. “But it’s extra dreary today, Potter,” he said exasperatedly.

Harry let the papers he was holding drop to his desk. “So what you’re saying is that you don’t feel like leaving the office today?”

“Precisely,” Draco smirked, and Harry sighed. It was quite dreary today, but that didn’t mean they should shirk their job responsibilities, either.

“We should at least do a couple of these visits,” Harry flipped through the case files. Except… they did look rather exceptionally boring, didn’t they? Damn it, Draco was going to get his way without even trying.

“Seriously, Potter? No one is going to care if we look into a misplaced cloak case a day late, and you know it.”

As much as he hated the thought, Draco’s words sounded quite seductive, and there was quite a bit of paperwork to do… “Fine. But if something big comes up, we go out.”

“Of course! Would you expect anything else from me, Potter?” Draco simpered, and Harry rolled his eyes.

“Yes,” he muttered under his breath.

From across the room, Draco threw a balled up piece of parchment at him. “I heard that!”

-X-

By the time the lunch hour struck, they were both knee-deep in stacks of paperwork that had been pulled out of the corner.

“Why do we ever let it stack up this high?” Harry grumbled.

“ _You_ let it stack up this high. I turn mine in on time,” Draco smirked. “I’m just helping you out through the kindness of my heart.”

“That’s because you always shove the paperwork onto my desk when you think I’m not looking!” Harry protested.

“So? You can’t say it happened if I never get caught, can you?”

“Whatever, Malfoy,” Harry rolled his eyes, standing up and wading through the stacks to get to the door. “I’m heading to the loo. Want a cuppa?”

Draco waved him onward. “No, I need to go, too. I’ll be a minute, though.”

“All right,” Harry said, his heart already starting to race.

He half expected Draco to accost him on the way from the loo, because they’d bickered enough today that it’d been like foreplay, and Draco didn’t disappoint. Harry was heading back to the tearoom when he was pulled unceremoniously into one of the maintenance closets and slammed into the wall. The cleaning supplies rattled. It was loud enough that he could moan at the sudden press of Draco’s body against his back and no one would hear.

“Shut up, Potter,” Draco muttered, bringing Harry’s hands together and holding them roughly against the wall with one hand. With the other, he began casting the usual spells— _Mufflatio_ , protection spells, and oh God, _Lubricus_ —Harry could feel the sudden slick up inside him, and he groaned, rutting against the wall. Draco had never fucked him before, but maybe now, maybe today…

He’d never been so hard. His cock was straining at his trousers, and he whimpered, wanting to push back against Draco but knowing that it’d be better if he waited.

And then Draco cast a sticking charm to keep Harry’s hands on the wall, and he was rendered breathless as Draco began to unbutton his trousers underneath his robes. The sudden rush of cool air against his groin was all the warning he got before Draco’s hand was on his cock, stroking slowly, teasingly, as if they had all the time in the world, here in this dark, tight closet.

Harry registered that Draco had pulled down his own trousers, too, because he could feel the press of Draco’s cock against the fabric of his robes. “Don’t fuck up my work robes,” he muttered, and Draco pressed a hand against his mouth.

“I said shut _up_ , Potter,” he growled, moving Harry’s robes out of the way nonetheless.

And then the hand that was on his cock was moving to his arse instead. There were fingers suddenly pressing up into him, making him absolutely squirm, and he let out a low, needy groan against the hand on his lips.

But then there was something pressing into him that wasn’t fingers and certainly wasn’t Draco’s cock. It was cold and unyielding, just a bit bigger than the fingers but not large enough to feel painful. Oh God, Draco was putting a plug in him, and he was just going to _leave_ it there, wasn’t he?

He was, because behind him, Draco was zipping up his own pants. “You should be able to sit with that in you. Just don’t squirm. Come to mine tonight and I’ll take it out of you.”

Harry couldn’t stop himself from whimpering loudly. They’d done this before, but he hadn’t had to sit at work whilst it was happening—today was going to be _torture_ , he wanted Draco so badly.

And then Draco pulled Harry’s trousers back up and unstuck his hands from the wall and left.

Harry took a moment to breathe, feeling ridiculously horny and unfulfilled. Draco often pushed him, trying things that weren’t necessarily comfortable—it had been part of their relationship from the beginning—but the wanting was so intense, he didn’t know if he’d be able to make it through the day.

He wandered over to the tearoom, making himself a cuppa with hands that were only slightly shaking. Then he went back to their office, where Draco didn’t even look up from the paperwork.

Harry ate his lunch, doing his best to ignore the erection that hadn’t yet gone away, to ignore the tantalizing thickness in his arse. He ate his lunch, and then he did paperwork, and all the while he shot longing glances at Draco.

Across the room, Draco refused to look back. He had brought more strawberries for lunch, though, and he ate them one by one, nipping them cleanly from his fingers. Harry watched, and it did nothing but further twist the lust that was spinning in his stomach.

-X-

“Fucking _finally_ ,” Harry groaned as Draco pushed him so that he fell onto the couch. Harry was still dizzy from the Floo, but now he was dizzier—the smell of Draco combined with the throbbing in his arse was enough to make him drown in the dizziness.

He closed his eyes briefly as Draco kissed him. Mmm. Succumbing easily to the press of Draco’s lips on his, he opened his mouth to the hot swipe of Draco’s tongue. Draco rarely kissed him. This was good.

“’Finally’ what, Potter?” Draco pulled back, the ever present smirk on his face. Harry’s heart gave a large thump before promptly jumping into his throat.

“The… the plug. Take it out of me?” he requested, though it came out as more of a needy whimper than he’d expected.

Draco tutted at him, lithely pushing himself off of Harry, off of the couch. “Patience, Potter. You’ll just have to wait.” He walked toward the bedroom then, crooking his finger for Harry to follow.

Harry followed. He never could resist Draco, not from the very first time Draco’d pressed him to the wall and made him scream.

“Take your clothes off,” Draco instructed when they got there, having spelled his own away. Harry swallowed roughly, not hiding the fact that he couldn’t stop staring at Draco. His body was wiry but not too thin, and his cock, _oh._ Harry could barely think right now, but the thoughts he was having at the moment all centered around Draco’s cock and the possibility of it being inside of him tonight.

Harry unclasped his robe, draping it over the chair. Then he unbuttoned his shirt and shucked off his trousers, knowing Draco was watching him and reveling in the gaze.

When he looked back up at Draco, Draco was lying in bed, eating a bowl of strawberries. This time, he had made a mess of himself, and the juice was running down his chin, just as Harry had imagined earlier.

_Fucking strawberries_.

Harry didn’t know what was hotter: the act itself, or the fact that Draco would never make a mess on accident—meaning that it was on purpose, and that it was only for Harry’s benefit. Draco had _known_ he was watching today, had picked up on his fantasy without even asking. Draco always knew what would make Harry the hardest, could sometimes read him from a single glance. It was what kept Harry coming back.

The lust hit Harry _hard_ , and he hooked his fingers into the waistband of his boxers, pushing them down his legs. And then Draco put the bowl of fruit on the nightstand and was motioning Harry closer. Harry came. He laid down obediently on his stomach, then groaned as Draco lightly stroked the curve of his arse.

“What do you want, Potter?”

The words were a double edged sword. Draco always did the opposite of whatever Harry wanted, just to spite him, and Harry always ended up enjoying it nonetheless. But all Harry wanted, all he could think of, was letting Draco fuck him.

“I want you,” he said truthfully, and then Draco looked at him oddly, smirk fading from his face.

“Me,” Draco breathed.

“Yeah.” And Harry realized that the statement could be taken in a multitude of ways, whereas before he’d always had a concrete answer to Draco’s question.

This was unfamiliar ground for both of them.

Draco blinked, then leaned forward and nipped at Harry’s shoulder, smearing sticky strawberry juice over it. He reached for his wand. Harry felt rather than heard the lubricant spell as it spread inside him again, making him almost painfully aware of the plug. He whimpered.

Normally Draco would chuckle at his neediness, but today he seemed pensive, and a pang of anxiety pealed in the back of Harry’s mind. He’d fucked something up, hadn’t he?

But still, Draco continued stroking his arse, squeezing it roughly. Then finally, _finally_ , he sat up, grasping at the plug and twisting it. Harry buried his face in the pillows to muffle his groan. Draco was pulling it out as slowly as he possibly could, and Harry had to fight not to tense up. It felt searingly hot against the rim of his hole.

And then it was gone, and he felt impossibly empty. He turned his head from the pillow to stare at Draco, who was fuzzy (Harry had knocked off his own glasses somewhere along the way).

Draco leaned closer, still staring at him with that odd, odd expression. “I’m going to fuck you now,” he whispered.

“All right,” Harry managed to choke out in response. Every nerve in his body was singing, yearning for it, _God_.

“Flip over,” Draco told him, and Harry blinked in surprise but did so anyway, turning onto his back.

He hadn’t expected Draco to want to be face to face.

To tell the truth, he hadn’t really been convinced that Draco was going to fuck him at all, but something seemed different tonight. It was the blurring of perfection, maybe, the stark contrast of the strawberry juice on Draco’s pale chin, the destruction of their carefully impersonal facades. Draco hadn’t fucked him before because that was what exactly what Harry had wanted, and it had never been about what Harry wanted. Draco had let Harry fuck him countless times, but he’d always kept this away from Harry, held this one thing over his head just to fuck with him.

But things were shifting tonight. Harry could see it in the way Draco almost looked nervous as he slicked his own cock. He could see it in himself, too, because his hands were shaking as he pulled his knees up to his chest. Shaking with lust, yes, but also with the poignancy of it all, with the shifting of the tension in the room.

Draco flicked the light off, and then the moonlight was all that illuminated them. It seemed fitting, somehow.

Draco climbed over Harry, and Harry could feel him lining himself up. He hadn’t bothered preparing Harry farther, but that was all right; Harry’d had the plug in him for half the day anyhow.

He could feel the pushing at his hole, and he desperately relaxed, and… _there_ , there, Draco was pushing inside of him, filling him completely. This was what he’d needed, what he’d craved for so very long, he was _so very_ full—

He opened his eyes so he could watch, and was startled by the intensity of Draco’s expression—he seemed more vulnerable than Harry had ever seen him, even as he started to fuck himself into Harry. Harry held himself open and held on, keeping his eyes open, because he decided he didn’t want to miss one moment of this.

Draco leaned closer, closer, and then they were kissing and Draco was fucking him and Harry was filled with an indescribable joy. He had no idea where it had come from, but it was there, and Draco tasted like himself but also like strawberries and for once, messiness. Harry moaned against Draco’s mouth, licked at his chin and tasted the fruit that lingered there.

Somehow, Draco maneuvered his hand down to Harry’s cock, assaulting Harry with building pleasure that was set to erupt at any moment. Harry stared into Draco’s eyes, wanting Draco to break too, willing it to happen as he pressed back against those pale hips.

“I want you,” Harry whispered, repeated, and Draco nodded and gave himself away. He fucked into Harry until they were both gasping the same air and clinging to each other and spurting over each other’s bodies, wringing each other out until all that was left were shells of Harry and Draco together, collapsed onto the bed.

Harry’s arse hurt. It was a good hurt. Blindly, he reached out and found Draco’s hand.

He wondered if maybe Draco fucking him meant that this was all over. He hoped it didn’t. He quite liked fucking Draco, and if he was in the process of admitting things, he should probably add that he quite liked Draco, too.

A few moments later, he opened his eyes. He looked at Draco, who was staring at him with a soft smirk, eyes laughing and so very grey. “You’re a good fuck, Potter,” Draco murmured.

Harry chuckled, leaning in close to nip at Draco’s strawberry-stained lips. It was all right, then, they weren’t going to stop—

“I wasn’t finished, Potter,” Draco stopped him.

“Oh,” Harry swallowed, tilting his head in askance.

“Do you remember what I said when we started this?”

“That this wasn’t about what I wanted,” Harry murmured automatically.

Draco’s eyebrows scrunched together. “Well, I did say that, but no, not that. Kind of, anyway. I was talking about how I said that this wasn’t going to be a permanent thing,” he prompted.

“Oh. Right.” Harry bit his lip nervously. Draco had mentioned that too, but Harry had rather thought he was lying, because he’d never failed to come back afterwards. But Harry could have been entirely wrong. Maybe this actually was the end, and he’d been right to worry.

“Well… I think I want it to be a permanent thing,” Draco said very quickly, as if he were juggling the words with his tongue.

Harry was so caught by the vulnerability playing across Draco’s face that he almost missed what the words actually meant.

Wait. That wasn’t…

“Me, too,” he breathed, not really caring exactly what Draco meant by that. They’d figure it out. Draco would take what he wanted from Harry, and Harry would enjoy it (because he always did), and then maybe Draco would take Harry out to dinner too, and it would all be good.

“Yeah?” Draco murmured, and his smirk was growing closer to a smile than anything else.

“Yeah,” Harry grinned, and leaned forward to kiss the smile off of Draco’s face.

Then he reached over to the nightstand and plucked a strawberry out of the bowl, because he’d been watching Draco eat them all day and he wanted to try one for himself. It tasted fresh, tasted of Draco and sweetness and newfound permanence.

And beside him, Draco laughed.


End file.
